Unheralded
by Val-Creative
Summary: Love has no place in science or logic or the inherent, unlimited power of quintessence. Haggar does her best to atone for any weakness she believes she carries, and keep her focus on the power of the Galra Empire and furthering her trickiest, magical-charged experiments. So it's quite fortunate that there are ways to satiate her less practical urges. /Canon AU. Haggar/Others.


**.**

 **.**

 _Love_ has no place in science or logic or the inherent, unlimited power of quintessence.

She understands this. Haggar does her best to atone for any weakness she believes she carries, and keep her focus on the power of the Galra Empire and furthering her trickiest, magical-charged experiments. So it's quite fortunate that there are ways to satiate her less _practical_ urges.

The sentries are, by far, the most useless. They're not designed or equipped for free-thinking organic movement, even with the modifications Haggar attempts in her spare time. There's no _fervor_.

Now when it comes to Galra soldiers, she prefers the underlings over the high-ranking generals and lieutenants. The ones who bow to her without question and cower, whimpering against the gentlest stroke of Haggar's clawed, blue fingers. Their fear and desire and loyalty is all she truly craves.

Zarkon is no more than a kergulian iron-plated shell, infused with Haggar's mutilated form of quintessence and retaining only a portion of his memories now. Devotion came so easily to her, over ten thousands of deca-phobs again, when their love was only matched by their hopes and idealism towards the future for all living things. To create a safe, stable energy for all worlds permanently and to bring Altean and Galran civilizations together in harmony. Just as they were — _blessed_ as could be.

It had been a farce. She never laid with him until they were both too corrupted by the darkness of the rift, devouring every kiss and lingering caress, becoming _hedonistic_ in their lust.

Haggar only considers part-Galran generals once more, for her appetites, when Lotor betrays his own. Ezor is a flightly, devilish thing, keening under the attention while Zethrid wraps her hand roughly to Ezor's neck, choking her lightly, as Acxa straddles Ezor's little, narrow thighs, rolling their hips in a flushed, unburdened ecstasy. Their naked, pale silhouettes begin to illuminate in the violet-glow.

Her pet project — the _spy_ , the most resilient of the clones left of the Black Paladin — comes to her of his own accord while deeply under her thrall. Kuron closes his eyes, pupils blackening and emitting a flash-flare of violet, and nuzzles against Haggar, crawling over her.

But still, Haggar longs for the fear roiling off her prey, cupping the side of Allura's face as the other Altean trembles and cries out for help despite her comm.-link's frequencies being jammed. The bottom half of the white-and-pink paladin armor has been removed. Haggar's nails make crooked, tiny patterns against Allura's stomach, bleeding them into existence, while she's bound against a table.

Absorbing dark magic requires concentration and a level of _acceptance_ , both physical and mental, with her body needing to undergo external stimulation. She feels her Druids surround her in a comfortable, dutiful silence, quickly pulling off her robes and guiding her down, kneeling, pressing themselves against her overly exposed, grotesque form. Haggar's legs part over the warped, lit Altean symbols beneath her. A multitude of hands and cocks and bulging, warm tentacles rub over her. They'll never betray her.

 _Weakness_ finds her, on the eve of battle, when Haggar claims a female Galra soldier. She's taller than most of her superiors piloting the warship, lean and covered in muscles and rarely smiles.

Krolia joins her willingly, sharing no disdain for her Altean blood or heritage — unlike the others.

She talks about her child, stretching out on the royal, feduion-silk sheets and hooking her wrists together to cushion her head. A son who could not love Krolia or be with her, for his own protection. For the _love_ she has for him.

Haggar excuses herself, heading to a more private area of the bedchamber while cloaked, her pulse quickening and mouth dry. It's _Honevra_ glimpsing back in the mirror's reflection, when she summons it, with that dark brown, smooth skin and amber-bright eyes. The horror staring back grimaces, flinging the mirror and shattering it, tugging a low, mournful noise from her lips.

It can never be the way it was. No matter what.

 **.**

 **.**

* * *

 _Voltron isn't mine. IT'S HAGGAR WEEK! I LOVE MY BABY! Haggar was my very first favorite character when I started watching Voltron. It's kinda weird to say but I was more interested in what she was doing than the paladins and I wanted her to kick their ass. I love the paladins now and my other favorite character is Shiro but mannn,,,,,,,, Haggar is where it is AT. SHE'S A QUEEN. HAGGAR AND KROLIA ARE MY QUEENS. AND ROMELLE. AND ALLURA. For Haggar Week I decided to go with "Day 8:Free Day" and this also covers my card space "Seduction" for the NSGW Genre bingo card in Voltron Bingo. I'm getting close to having a blackout! If you love Haggar too and got to read this, please holler! I'd love to scream about Haggar! And any nice words about the fic are deeply appreciated!  
_


End file.
